The Call of Alaska

Rowan’s POV

My chest rose and fell sharply as Anna’s words hung in the air between us. Alaska. She was going to Alaska. My lips hovered close to hers, but I didn’t kiss her. I couldn’t. The truth she’d just spoken had stolen the moment, casting a heavy silence over the room.

The bedside lamp’s glow caught the planes of her face, throwing jagged shadows on the walls. I studied her, searching for something—anything—that could make this feel less real.

"Philip called you for this?" I finally asked, my voice barely above a whisper, strained and disbelieving.

"Yes." Her voice was soft, almost apologetic, and her hand brushed along my jaw, her touch warm but unable to soften the blow. "He handed me the transfer letter today. He kept delaying the decision, but the pressure’s mounting. The media’s all over the disappearances of those girls in Alaska, and the judiciary wants results. He needs someone who can solve this."

I clenched my jaw, my mind racing. “It’s a significant case,” I said, forcing my voice to stay measured, and calm. Too calm. “But Philip knew you needed time—to finish my treatment, to make sure I fully recovered.”

"I know," she replied, her voice quieter. "But I can’t delay my transfer any longer. I have to report to the Seward police office by Monday."

"Monday," I repeated, the word leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. Two days. Two damn days.

She nodded, and the world around me seemed to narrow, shrinking to the ticking seconds we had left. My instinct kicked in immediately.

"Then we’ll pack tomorrow," I said, the plan forming in my head as I spoke. "We’ll leave Washington by Saturday—"

"Rowan." Her hand pressed against my chest, firm but gentle, stopping me in my tracks.

I frowned, confused. "What?"

"This is a short-term transfer," she said, her voice steady despite the tension in the air. "Once the case is solved, I’ll come back. There’s no need to disrupt your recovery. You should stay—"

"Anna,"

I interrupted, my voice low but firm, my hands cupping her face before she could finish. My thumbs brushed over her cheeks, grounding me even as my emotions threatened to spiral. "You don’t get it, do you? Wherever you go, I go. That’s not a promise—that’s my instinct."

Before she could argue, I kissed her. Fierce. Desperate. I poured everything into that kiss—the love, the frustration, the fear of losing her to something I couldn’t control. She melted into me, her hands clutching my arms as if trying to anchor me. But beneath my passion, something darker stirred.

When I finally pulled back, I rested my forehead against hers, my breath ragged. "You’re not just my wife, Anna. You’re my mate. I can’t let you go, and I won’t let you face this alone."

Her eyes widened at my words, and I could see the conflict there. She didn’t fully understand, not yet. But I did. The beast inside me was awake now, clawing at the edges of my control. Alaska wasn’t just dangerous for her. It was dangerous for me.

That night, after Anna had drifted off to sleep, I lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Her breathing was soft and steady beside me, her body curled against mine. But my mind wouldn’t rest.

The beast was restless.

Carefully, I slipped out of bed, my movements slow and deliberate so I wouldn’t wake her. My bare feet made no sound against the hardwood floor as I crossed the room to the window. Pulling back the curtain, I stared out into the night.

The forest beyond our home was cloaked in shadows, frost glinting faintly on the bare branches. The wind stirred, carrying with it a chill that seemed to seep into my skin. But it wasn’t the cold that had me on edge.

It was the pull.

I pressed my palms against the glass, the cool surface grounding me for a moment. But the pull in my chest wouldn’t fade. It had started days ago, a faint hum at the back of my mind. Now it was a roar, an ache that wouldn’t be silenced.

Alaska was calling me.

Images flashed through my mind, unbidden: a forest shrouded in mist, the sharp tang of blood, howls echoing through the icy night. My instincts screamed at

me to act, to run, to protect. But protect what? Or who?

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. The beast within me growled low, restless, and wild. My senses were sharper tonight, my muscles tense with the need to move, to shift. But I couldn’t. Not yet.

My reflection in the glass caught my attention, and I froze. My pupils were blown wide, the faint gold in my irises glowing in the dim light. The wolf stared back at me, unrelenting, waiting for me to acknowledge it.

A soft rustle behind me made me turn. Anna shifted in her sleep, her hand reaching out instinctively to the spot I’d vacated. When she found it empty, her brows furrowed slightly, a small frown tugging at her lips.

I moved back to her, the wolf settling slightly as I slid under the covers and wrapped an arm around her waist. She sighed, her body relaxing against mine, her warmth grounding me.

But the pull of Alaska was still there, thrumming in my veins like a warning.

Something was waiting for us in Alaska.

Something personal.